Snippet by Aime Cesare

I would retrieve the secret of great combustions and great
communications. I would say storm. I would say river. Tornado I would
say. I would say leaf. I would say tree. I would be watered by all
rains, dampened by all dews. I would rumble onward like frenetic blood
on the slow stream of the eye my words like wild horses like radiant
children like clots like curfew bells like temple ruins like precious
stones so distant as to discourage miners. He who not understand me
would not understand the roaring of the tiger either.